


Faith

by xenosaurus



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Healing Magic, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Relationship, minimal spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenosaurus/pseuds/xenosaurus
Summary: When she was in school, Dorothea used to detest white magic.





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> the screenshot that inspired this thing: [here](https://66.media.tumblr.com/4f2def0350579d12b4865a1c8ceaf147/tumblr_pwyg9ge9fD1r3u59xo1_1280.jpg)
> 
> heads up, there's a moderately graphic description of a battle wound right after the scene change
> 
> also, thank you to benny, as usual, for being the best beta a girl could ask for

When she was in school, Dorothea used to detest white magic.

It isn’t that she dislikes magic as a whole. The discipline favors nobles with crests, but once she had the groundwork, black magic came easily. There’s a logic to it that can be tested and unraveled like a math problem, and once you have the reasoning down, all you need is willpower.

If Dorothea has anything, it’s willpower.

Faith, though?

Faith, she’d never put much stock into. White magic relies heavily on it, so she doesn’t put much stock in white magic either. 

Early on in Byleth’s short teaching career, Dorothea would hang back after class to ask her for magic tutoring. Back then, she still found Byleth rather intimidating, so it was something that took considerable courage.

It always felt like Byleth was staring into her soul, and Dorothea hadn’t yet considered that she might like what she finds there.

She had specified black magic, but Byleth sets aside time to sit with her and practice white magic too.

“It isn’t about believing in the Goddess,” Byleth had told her, once. “It’s about having faith that the magic will work.”

“You don’t believe in the Goddess?” Dorothea had asked, too blunt and too personal. She regretted it immediately, but Byleth hadn’t given her time to apologize for it.

“I think I do,” she said, in her ever-steady voice. It was hard to tell if she was offended or not, because her emotions don’t show in her face or in her words. “But I don’t have to believe in the Goddess. I have to believe I can help.”

At the time, Dorothea didn’t really understand what Byleth meant. Faith still came to her, though, as those lessons continued.

Her first healing spell was mid-battle, when her heart was pounding from fear, her hands shaking from exhaustion. No matter how hard she willed it, the black magic wouldn’t come, burnt out from overuse. The cover of trees slowed down the bandits that followed her, but it had seemed inevitable that they would catch her.

Byleth found her first, a miracle with a bleeding gash in her shoulder. In the moment, the healing just… slid into place. She fixed Byleth’s shoulder, and got a real, honest-to-goodness _smile_ in return.

After that, it was easy. Her faith isn’t in the Goddess, or in helping, or in whatever it is Linhardt is drawing from.

Her faith is in Byleth.

*** * ***

Even five years later, Dorothea’s healing spells still come just a bit easier when she’s using them on Byleth.

It isn’t much, but right now, she’s grateful for any advantage she can get.

She’s assisted Manuela with emergency field surgery before, but never when the patient is this dear to her. She holds Byleth’s hand tight and keeps the magic flowing as Manuela cuts clothing away from the place where Byleth’s ribs have caved in. Dorothea’s own chest feels tight and frozen.

Manuela, though, is nearly as much of a miracle worker as the woman she’s operating on. Dorothea can’t bring herself to watch what she does to get Byleth breathing again, but she can hear the crack when the ribs are set, followed by Byleth’s wet gasp.

It’s only then that she allows herself to dissolve into tears, clutching Byleth’s hand to her chest and weeping openly. She’s breathing. As long as she’s breathing, she’s going to make it; Dorothea can believe that.

After a moment, Byleth weakly starts to stroke the back of Dorothea’s trembling hand with her thumb, trying to comfort her before she can even open her eyes to look at her.

Dorothea lifts their clasped hands to her lips, and the world finally starts to move again.

Even with that improvement, getting Byleth safely back to the infirmary at Garreg Mach is not an option. The battle was only half a day’s march from the monastery, but she really isn’t up for any marching at all. Their best option is to sit her down somewhere and give Manuela’s potion time to work.

Their friends immediately jump in to help out. Bernadetta spotted mint on the march over and brings Byleth some to get the foul taste of the potions out of her mouth; Linhardt volunteers a pillow he really shouldn’t have brought to the battle; and Ferdinand, ever the gentleman, offers up his cloak to replace the shirt Manuela cut away. They support her over to the shade of a tree and she settles down to rest, leaning against the trunk.

Nobody questions it when Dorothea claims a spot tucked into Byleth’s side. Byleth’s body heat is a reminder that she’s alive, and none of them can begrudge Dorothea that comfort.

And maybe it’s wishful thinking, but the contact seems to comfort Byleth too. She takes Dorothea’s hand of her own accord and sighs softly when she does it, like the gesture lessens the pain.

Following an impulse, Dorothea presses a kiss to Byleth’s hair and gives her hand a little squeeze.

Byleth hums something, and after a moment, Dorothea realizes she’s trying to talk. She leans closer to see if she can make out what she's saying, but doesn't have much luck.

“Does it hurt to talk?” Dorothea asks gently. Byleth shakes her head minutely.

“No more than it does to breathe,” she says, and her voice is raspy, half-asleep. It’s more honest than Dorothea was expecting; Byleth usually suffers in silence. She must be out of it from the potion as well as the injury.

“Poor thing,” Dorothea says, aching with sympathy.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Byleth mumbles.

“It’s hardly your fault, but I would prefer it if you didn’t do it again.”

“I’ll make it up to you. Found another merchant selling seeds for those flowers you like. They look so pretty in your hair.”

Dorothea feels silly for blushing, but her cheeks warm up nonetheless. “For me?”

“Mm, of course. I overwatered them on my last try, but I’ll get it right this time.”

Dorothea chuckles and squeezes her hand.

“You’ll get it. I believe in you.”

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [xenosaurus](https://xenosaurus.tumblr.com)


End file.
